


So Very Green

by MinnaVipera



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alan Rickman Tribute, Female Harry Potter, Gen, Mentor Severus Snape, POV Severus Snape, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-09 03:15:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16441943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinnaVipera/pseuds/MinnaVipera
Summary: "I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!"Severus Snape never forgave himself for those words, they would come to haunt him for the rest of his life. Years later he saw those eyes again, and this time he would do better. He would do anything for those eyes.They were so very green.Companion peice to my story "New Wolf in Town" but can be read as a stand alone fic





	So Very Green

**Author's Note:**

> I firmly believe Snape would have acted differently if he saw more of Lily than James in their child. Here, he does.  
> This is a tribute to Alan Rickman.
> 
> I've been told it's a bit of a tear-jerker. Sorry not sorry

" _I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!"_

Severus Snape never forgave himself for those words. His deepest desire had from that point been to take them back. He had pleaded with her, he had begged her to forgive him, but deep down he had known as soon as those words were out of his mouth he had lost her forever.

It hurt.

It hurt even more when she started hanging out with _Potter_ and his friends a year later.

He nearly killed himself on the night of the Potter wedding. If not for the war it would have been a grand thing. The popular and brilliant Head Girl marrying the equally popular Head Boy, who also happens to be the scion of a well-liked, rich and influential family. Yes, it would have been a wedding to behold if it wasn't for the war. Instead it was small, only the closest friends and family had been invited.

Severus had received an invite in her handwriting.

He had hid in the shadows, never letting the couple or their guests know he was there. Petunia was missing, although Severus had no doubts that she had been invited. He had comforted Lily enough times both before and during their Hogwarts years when Petunia had – or hadn't – responded to her owls.

Potter had been smiling through the entire thing, never looking away from the angel by his side. Black and Lupin had stood next to him, Pettigrew had apparently opted out. Severus wondered what his excuse had been this time. Sick mother?

The most painful part had been seeing his angel smiling back at Potter. Every time it twisted the knife in his heart a little deeper. _That could have been me. If I only had held my mouth._ He had missed her glancing out at the crowd, searching for someone. Searching for him, although every time someone asked about it afterwards she would tell them she was looking for her sister.

When he heard a part of a prophesy about a child that would bring down the Dark Lord three years later he reported it to his master without a second thought. Sixteen months later he cursed a dead man for making the few who knew about Pettigrew being a death eater swear an unbreakable vow not to reveal it.

He had warned Dumbledore she had been targeted the second he knew. The old man had _promised_ he would keep her safe. Keep her child safe.

He had failed, and with that so had Severus' faith in the world.

The only thing, the only person, that now tied him to life was a small fifteen months old baby girl with her mother's looks and green – _so very green_ – eyes and the pitch black hair of her father.

He had been forced to let Hagrid take her, he expected her to be raised by a wizarding family, probably her god mother, Alice Longbottom. When the Longbottoms were attacked without the little girl being mentioned as killed or missing he desperately hoped he had been wrong. When Black had been arrested he had again cursed the Dark Lord for making him swear to not reveal the true traitor.

Ten years later she had been sorted. At first he hadn't recognized her. She had been small, by far the smallest in her year, and rarely raised her eyes above the floor. She seemed to never look anyone in the eyes.

The sorting itself had taken nearly ten minutes and since she had been facing the students and not the staff he had sent a weak legilimency probe at one boy in the front. He had sworn to himself to never use legilimency on her unless it was an emergency. The probe didn't help. She had been looking at the floor without moving a muscle in her face or betraying a single thought. After what had felt like an eternity the hat shouted out the house of the Foolish and he wasn't sure whether his world was breaking a bit more or if he was relieved she was like her mother. He had observed her the rest of the feast and noticed she never spoke unless spoken to, and even then it was only with short replies. She shrunk away every time anyone tried to dunk her back or hug her in welcoming. She jumped slightly at sudden sounds and completely froze when the Gryffindor house ghost stuck his head through the table in front of her.

In short she was nothing like he had imagined.

He had imagined a girl who could make a friend out of anyone, a girl with a temper to match her mothers, possibly-but-hopefully-not a girl with a fondness of pranks to rival her father.

Not a child who looked like she was nine and seemed to flinch at her own shadow.

He was going to have _words_ with a certain headmaster when this was over.

 

 

Petunia.

He had put her with _Petunia_ of all people. Anyone would have been better. Even the Malfoys would probably have been better, there he would at least have been able to keep an eye on her as Draco's god father. _Petunia_. How on earth did he think that could possibly be a good idea? The woman _hated_ her sister, it was no secret. He wasn't surprised she would treat her niece the same way she treated her sister.

It wasn't until her first potions class he had gotten a closer look at her hair. Red highlights streaked through the pitch black and reflected the light from the torches on the walls.

The knife was twisted harder.

_If only I had said something. Anything. Asked more about her location. Demanded that she be taken from Petunia._

He had been all but forced to not show any kind of favouritism towards her due to the many slytherins in the class, but that didn't mean he had to torment her. He did however assign her and the Longbottom kid – _the one who could have been the child of prophesy and saved_ her – a detention each when the boy's cauldron exploded. They had been sharing a workspace so he took the opportunity to speak to her alone.

The boy was assigned to cleaning cauldrons while he had her help him grade summer homework. Normally he would never let a student near such work, but he needed to talk to her. When she sat down in his office he walked to the bookshelf and retrieved a book he set down in front of her. It was one of his most precious treasures and her eyes grew huge when she opened it.

It was an album.

An album with a little girl that looked like her but with flaming red hair. Some of the pictures were moving, but most in the beginning were muggle photographs, taken by her mother and father. As the girl and the dark haired boy who usually accompanied her in the pictures grew older more and more of them were moving. In a few pictures there was an older blonde girl she recognized from pictures in her aunt's house. Aunt Petunia. Did that make the red haired girl her mother?

Severus had not really been surprised she had never seen a picture of her mother and reluctantly pointed out her father in one of the pictures in the back. He was somewhat relieved when she quickly went back to staring at her mother and for the first time since he first saw her she had a small smile on her face.

That very second Severus swore to himself and every god and deity he knew of that he would forever do anything he could to keep her safe. Anything.

He kept helping her behind the scenes through the years, often in the form of detentions and without even telling the headmaster about it. He taught her occlumency in third year after a student had been possessed by an old book and she had befriended the basilisk under the school, he taught her to become an animagus in fourth year in the midst of the tri-wizard tournament – she was a snowy owl, just like the one she herself owned, but also like the one her mother had once owned – he taught her silent and wandless casting and apparation in fourth and fifth year, he helped her every step on the way where he could. It was the least he could do after condemning his angel to death. He told her of the prophesy, or at least what he knew of it.

He had seen her grow from the shy and timid fawn she was when she arrived to a strong young woman and he realized early on he loved her almost like a daughter. Secretly she was his pride. She was everything that made life worth living.

He may have visited Petunia during the Christmas holidays of her first year to 'kindly ask' her to treat the little girl like an actual human being. There may have been a few curses involved as well when he found out about her previous sleeping arrangements and the unnatural amount of chores she had been assigned on a daily basis. Maybe.

At the end of sixth year he had been forced to kill Dumbledore. He had explained to her beforehand why it had to happen and she had been surprisingly accepting. Even then she played the part of furious student extremely well and followed their own plan. He would take all blame to ensure the Dark Lord would trust him and at the same time protect Draco. She wasn't that fond of the Malfoy scion but did not wish for him to become a murderer either.

The next year she never appeared in the school, she and a few of her friends seemed to have dropped off the face of the planet. The Dark Lord was furious about it but Severus had safely made a tactical retreat to Hogwarts in his mission to act as headmaster. He managed to keep sporadic contact with her and was once in a while visited by a white snowy owl. It never appeared when someone else was nearby and when it did it would turn into her and he would give her a hug and thank the spirits she was alive. He also made sure she got the silver sword of Gryffindor which had appeared to her in second year and had ended up coated in basilisk venom and pierced through the first horocrux.

In late March Severus got a message that something was very wrong. The Dark Mark started burning. Not to call him, but to signify that the Dark Lord was extremely displeased. After two days without an explanation the white owl showed up again. She explained about the skirmish at Malfoy manor, how the little house elf had given his life for them, how the rat had died. How Bellatrix had unknowingly given them the next location, although she refused to tell him where it was.

The next time something was very wrong was on the evening of May 1st. The Mark had burned worse than ever before and Severus couldn't help but think that this would be it. The diary was gone, so were the ring and the locket and hopefully the cup. That left Nagini, the girl herself and likely one more object. He could only hope it all would work out.

The night between the 1st and the 2nd of May would quite literally be hell for many.

Severus had fled the castle when she arrived to reduce the risk of the two of them having to face each other. And because Minerva McGonagall can be almost as scary as _her_ when properly angered.

He knew he would not survive the night. The elder wand was his to command, the Dark Lord would come after him for that. If he didn't Severus would likely be killed by the 'Light Side'. He had angered enough people to ensure none would like to see anything else than him dead. He could only hope she wouldn't have to watch in that case.

The Shrieking Shack.

Lucius had brought him there while shaking in his boots. The Dark Lord had come for the wand after all. He had Nagini strike at him several times, but it took only two strikes for his blood to run cold.

On the second strike he fell.

As he fell he saw a glimpse of green eyes.

His first thought was that his angel was early to pick him up.

His second was deep regret as he realized exactly who those green – _so very green_ – eyes belonged to.

She had seen.

She was crying.

He willed himself to cry out his memories. To give her the one last gift he could.

He would give her the memories of her mother. The memories if her father.

But most of all he would give her the memories of how she saved his life merely through existing every day. Through laughing. Through smiling at him. Through becoming his daughter in all but blood. Through letting him redeem himself, even if he never would let himself forgive those words.

"Take … it … Take … it ..."

Her trembling hands conjured a small flask to catch his tears. He knew he wouldn't last much longer.

"Look … at … me …"

Pitch black eyes met her green – _so very green_ – eyes one last time and the hand that had been gently caressing her cheek thudded to the floor.

He could only hope that this would be enough.

His last thought was the hope that he would always protect her.

_Always_

**Author's Note:**

> Rest in Peace Alan Rickman, 21/2-1946 – 14/1-2016  
> You will be missed by millions.


End file.
